


The Way I Loved You

by Finally_Home



Series: based on songs [7]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Moving On, Self-Reflection, Song: The Way I Loved You (Taylor Swift), even thought that's not technically true, i'm actually not sure how to tag this, no beta we die like men, past KunTen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:14:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28399791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finally_Home/pseuds/Finally_Home
Summary: Dejun's perfect, so why does Kun keep thinking of Ten?
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Qian Kun, Qian Kun/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun
Series: based on songs [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1755427
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	The Way I Loved You

**Author's Note:**

> [taylor swift - the way i loved you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X31Z2N513L0)
> 
> \- technically a kunten fic  
> \- past kunten, present xiaokun  
> \- no beta we die like men (i'm serious i didn't even look it over for typos or anything)

_He is sensible and so incredible and it's like I couldn't ask for anything better_

The first time he meets Dejun, he’s immediately taken with the boy’s smile. He’s only three years younger than him, but how come he seems so much more innocent?

They’re together by the end of two weeks, with Dejun still calling him ‘Kun-ge’ as if honorifics still matter in a romantic relationship. But Kun doesn’t mind; he doesn’t think he can get used to just being called ‘Kun’ anyway.

Not after so many years.

Dejun proves to be the perfect boyfriend, just the right amount of cute-and-clingy interspersed with an intense possessiveness. It makes Kun want to lock him in a tight hug and bury his nose in the crook of his neck and bite down and mark him and kiss him and take him but— 

But the face he pictures in his mind is different, no sharp canines or starry eyes but instead a cat-like beauty and flirtatious lip-bite. A person of the past, someone he should be over, should have been over a long time ago.

Instead, Kun takes to ruffling Dejun’s hair, settling for the beaming smile he receives in return, and listens to the boy talk about the cool things he learned in music theory class today, or how his professor won’t even raise his grade one point, or how his parents want to meet him and Kun-ge what do you think?

What does Kun think? The last time parents had been involved in his relationship, Kun had spent hours talking them into it, promising that they’d love his partner, guilt-tripping them with it-means-a-lot-to-us and I-think-he’s-it-for-me but when they actually sat down and saw him, Kun remembers the look on their faces and the hurt on— 

Okay, he says with another smile. Let’s meet your parents.

_He's charming and endearing and I'm comfortable_

His parents had never approved of the whole gay thing. They were traditional, old-school Chinese with the firm belief that a family was a man, a woman, and their biological children. Nothing Kun said or did seemed to dispel that belief, though over the years, they did become increasingly less vocal about his partners.

It gave him a sense of security, then, to introduce them to the love of his life, standing there in the hubbub of the restaurant with his hair combed back, a beautiful smile on his beautiful face, extending a hand to his father. Hi, he’d said, I’m Ten, it’s nice to meet you.

Ten? What sort of name is that?

Kun tried to silence his father, but the deed was done and the words were out. Ten only smiled—it wasn’t as if he’d never been asked the question before—and answered, Thai names tend to be long, so we all have nicknames. Ten is my nickname.

Don’t ask his real name, Kun hissed in his father’s ear. It’s not important right now.

But he still couldn’t save the night. The tense atmosphere progressively worsened until neither Kun nor Ten could continue pretending everything was fine.

I’m sorry, he said in the car. I thought… I don’t know. I’m sorry.

Ten leaned his head against the window. It’s not your fault, baby.

I’m still sorry.

Still not your fault.

_But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain_

Dejun’s parents are wonderful. They’re open and accepting and warm like their son, and Kun even drinks a bit of baijiu with them. You’re the first one, you know, Dejun’s father reveals with a pointed look. We’ve never met anyone else before.

I’m glad. Kun smiles his best smile, trying to seem like the good husband-material that he’s been told he is. Showbiz smile, someone had once called it, but Kun doesn’t want to think about that person right now.

Ever, really, but especially now.

Come on, Xiao Qian. That’d be Dejun’s mother, from whom he inherited all of his good looks and musical talent. Eat more, you’re too thin.

I’m okay, Auntie, really.

Kun-ge can cook really well! Dejun boasts, eyes shining with pride. Anything Mama can make, he can too! I’m getting fat, I think, from all the good food.

Kun slings an arm around his shoulders and nuzzles into his neck, laughing helplessly. The kid’s so cute, so soft and good and truly in love, and he’s happy with him.

But are you really? his brain supplies, very helpful in light of the warm moment. Are you happy or are you just tired of missing him?

No. He’s happy. When they finally bid goodbye to Dejun’s parents, the kid leans against him and blows out a stream of air, opaque in the winter night and tinted gold from the streetlights. He’s happy, he thinks, tightly holding onto Dejun’s cold fingers as they walk home in the dark. The Christmas decorations behind the shop windows twinkle and blind him momentarily, but Dejun’s there to guide him home.

Home. That’s where he belongs, Kun tries to convince himself, that’s where he’s happy.

_And it's 2 a.m. and I'm cursing your name_

Kun had his future all planned out, a vivid picture painted in his mind’s eye: a little boy and girl seated in front of the TV, cheery music in the background, Ten in his studio working as Kun cooked dinner. A picture-perfect family. A picture-perfect life, by all means.

Ten laughed when he told him. Baby, he said, I despise children. Change it to a couple of cats and I’ll consider it.

Then they actually adopted a couple of cats, and Kun’s picture-perfect family solidified just a bit more. Kun, Ten, and Louis and Leon. He could already imagine the Christmas cards, the New Year’s portraits, but Ten frowned at that too.

They’re too young, Kun, he protested, holding both cats to his chest. We can’t just shove a camera in their faces. What if they get freaked out?

Kun backed down, as he always did with Ten because he could never win. He didn’t mind losing, either, not to Ten. Not when he was so in love that the whole world seemed to sparkle. It was in the way Louis groomed Leon, in the sunlight shining off of the bare metal of the balcony railing, in how Ten laid his head in his lap after a long day, in the soft kisses and rushed touches and barely-stifled moans during the night.

It was in Ten.

_Breakin' down and coming undone, it's a roller-coaster kinda rush_

They never fight. Despite never dating before, Dejun knows that communication is the key to making relationships work. Whenever something goes wrong, they both put down their pride and talk about what made them mad and what each other could do in the future to avoid anymore conflict. In short, they’re perfect.

Too perfect, Kun’s mind hisses in the deep of night, slipping in between the lines of his thesis. He’s too perfect. You’re going to ruin him, going to shatter him to pieces and then he’ll be left trying to pick up what remains of his broken glass heart and you won’t regret it at all because it’ll feel good, warm, like revenge even though the boy didn’t do anything wrong but someone else did and he only paid the price for your own hurt and— 

Kun-ge? Dejun’s voice is sleepy, muffled. Are you still working?

It’s okay, baby, go back to sleep.

Kun turns down the brightness of his lamp and soon, Dejun’s breaths even out, leaving him alone with a thirty-page paper and a piercing pain in his heart. He’s shaking, hands trembling as he struggles to type the final sentence in the paragraph, and tries not to think about the person in his past.

Kun, he would have said, slipping out of bed to stand behind him and massage his shoulders. Don’t push yourself too hard. Come to bed with me. Work can wait. Your health comes first. No more coffee, drink some water instead. Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t pull another all-nighter again.

It drives him crazy, with what he doesn’t know. Anger? Hurt? Want? His heart chills at the thought. No, he can’t. He can’t want him still, not after so long and what had transpired between them, not after the words and hurt. Not when he’s perfectly content with Dejun.

Yet it seems life is out to get him. Every word he types, every breath he takes, every burning tear that slides down his face—it’s all him, still him, always and forever—it’s Ten.

_I never knew I could feel that much_

In Kun’s memory, he and Ten were perfect for each other. They made up for each other’s weaknesses and their personalities meshed well too. But, in the same sense, they were too similar to get along without a fight every other day. Both too stubborn to admit their mistakes, too prideful to apologize first, too vengeful to forget the past.

In short, they were never meant to last, and both of them knew it.

Ten did, and brought it up every single time they fought. It broke Kun’s heart, to hear him talk so casually about breaking up and finding better people, to hear those poisonous words spat out from Ten’s wonderful mouth, and the insidious way he’d say it, like Kun was worth no more than a couple of years of his best life.

What am I to you, then? he’d yell, tears burning in his eyes. What are we? Fuckbuddies? Roommates? Are we even friends?

You’re a bitch is what you are, Ten would yell back, and then he’d grab a fistful of Kun’s shirt with a snarl and back them up into one of their beds and then they’d fall onto each other and make up passionately, roughly, until there was no more anger left in their systems.

Then Ten would kiss him, gently, while brushing the hair out of his eyes. I’m addicted to you, he’d whisper, I can’t quit you, not now, not ever. You’re my drug, Kun. I hate you but I love you.

Me too, he’d whisper back in the dark. That’s what you are to me too.

_He can't see the smile I'm faking, and my heart's not breaking_

Kun prides himself on being able to separate work and life, but that doesn’t stop Dejun from falling asleep each night before he finishes everything. Deep in his heart, Kun does feel apologetic; they’d wanted to watch that movie together, or catch up with that drama from months ago, or even just talk before sleeping, but he hadn’t been able to keep any of the many promises he’d carelessly made.

It’s okay, ge, Dejun reassures him during breakfast, as the morning sun streams through the windows behind him and lights up his hair like an angel’s halo. You’re busy and that’s not your fault. But you do have to take care of yourself, okay?

Being busy is not his fault, but thinking of another man certainly is. Kun smiles his presentation smile—business smile, Ten had called it—and hands the boy another piece of toast. 

I want to spend the weekend with you, though.

Dejun lights up like a beacon through the night. Really, ge? Okay, I’m free! What do you want to do?

He looks so expectant, so happy, that Kun hurts. He takes his hand across the table and squeezes it. Let’s go to the amusement park. Haven’t you wanted to go for a while?

The last time Kun’s been in an amusement park was years ago, back when he was still with Ten and they were young and wild, college students with not a care in the world. Ten had grabbed his hand and shoved a cotton candy at him and—

Ge, do you want cotton candy?

Kun recoils, unable to suppress a shudder. No, I’m good, he says, reading the concern in Dejun’s eyes. I don’t really like cotton candy. Sweet things, you know.

Dejun buys him a lollipop anyway. If you don’t like sweet things, then why do you like me? he asks with a teasing smile. I’m kidding, ge, you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.

But he does. The cellophane crinkles as he tears it off. Pure sugar melting in his mouth in every color of the rainbow. Red, orange, yellow, green. Blue, purple, even pink. He stares at the big round candy for a long time, and when he finally looks up, Dejun’s eyes are on him.

Soft and loving, like a good boyfriend.

Come on, Kun-ge. Let’s go play.

_'Cause I'm not feeling anything at all_

It was worth the half-hour bus ride and the expensive tickets. It was worth it all to see the childish joy on Ten’s face as he posed in front of the magic castle, or when he held up the giant cotton candy to take a selfie, or when his nails dug into Kun’s arm on the scariest rides.

You could have held onto the actual handlebars, Kun complained, shaking his arm. You know, the ones they put there for you to grab.

But you make me feel grounded, Ten replied with a pout. Safer than any handlebars ever will.

He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he held out his arm. So kiss me better, otherwise I won’t be able to protect you.

You’re an idiot, Kun. But Ten bent down and pressed a light kiss to the crescent-shaped wounds anyway. There, all better.

Between Kun’s thrill-seeking tendency and Ten’s fear-nothing attitude, they make their way through the scariest rollercoasters without blinking an eye. By the time the sun begins to set, they’ve finished the majority of the rides, scary or not, but Ten’s still not satisfied.

Come on, just one more, please, Kun? Please? I promise you won’t regret it.

He’ll never forget that day, the image of Ten on a beautifully-painted carousel horse, silhouetted against the sunset, laughing like it was the happiest day in his life. The half-finished pink cotton candy in his hand, the red shirt he wore, the halo of illuminated stray hairs—entranced, Kun lost the opportunity to take a picture, but he’s not sure he would have wanted to, anyway.

The Ten of that day belongs to him and him only.

_And you were wild and crazy, just so frustrating, intoxicating_

Kun’s heart nearly stops when he catches Dejun crying on the couch. What happened, baby? he murmurs, letting the boy bury his face in his shirt. It’s okay, baby, I’m here, you’re okay. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.

It takes half an hour for Dejun to calm down. By the time he’s stopped hiccuping, Kun’s understood enough to know that his professor had called out him and another student for plagiarism and both were on the path to an honor code violation.

But we didn’t do anything! Neither of us did! the boy sobs, a fresh wave of tears pouring down his face. Kun wipes them away for him, heart aching. We just, we just did what the assignment told us to do and, and Kun-ge, what do I do?

It’s okay, baby, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s easy for him to say that, but as long as you have your files and drafts, you’ll be good to go. There’s nothing in the honor code that says you can’t take inspiration from somewhere else, is there?

As mature as he seems, Dejun is still just a kid. He’s a fledgling, barely made his way out of the nest to try to make his way in society. This is the most cruelty he’s ever experienced thus far, and though Kun knows that someday he’ll look back and laugh, it’s an important stepping stone in the course of his life, the first ever crisis he has to pull through.

I’m here, baby, he promises, combing his fingers through soft hair. I’ll always be here. You’ll be okay.

But there’s no rule that says Kun can’t pull through with him. He remembers when Ten hit that moment too and—

No, not now. Ten. Dejun. They merge together in his mind and some days, Kun can’t remember who is who, or what he’s done with who, or who he truly loves. Is it Dejun, or Ten, or the concept of Dejun, or the thought of Ten?

It’s complicated, he thinks as he pours a glass of water for Dejun. He likes the boy, likes his bashful smile and the way his ears go red when they touch and how he’s always thinking of him, but is that enough for a lifetime? Does it compare to Ten and his passion?

Kun knows he loved Ten, but does he love Dejun too?

_Complicated, got away by some mistake and now_

They were never meant to last, and both of them knew it. Kun knew it when Ten stopped talking to him and began to shut himself in his studio all day. He knew it when he stopped reading Ten’s text-message-essays and applied to a grad school far, far away. 

They both knew it when silence pervaded the apartment, broken only by the occasional meow from Leon or Louis, and they knew it when Kun began to pack his things to send home.

Is it over? Ten asked, voice hollow, when he came back from the store with ten storage containers. Are we over?

Kun did not reply, but the answer was clear in the air. Ten nodded, picked up the cats, and shut himself in his room. He did not come out for dinner, and Kun did not check up on him. Then, days later, Ten also began to pack, and then he moved out, leaving Kun alone with a bare room and a key on the table and an emptiness in his heart.

_I was so in love that I acted insane_

It’s a cold day when he chooses to do it. Cold, like the day they met, snow falling all around like a shitty Korean drama, but he remembers holding his breath when he saw him, the little undergrad standing in the middle of the courtyard, face turned to the listless gray sky, snowflakes in his eyelashes, those pretty eyes blinking and then turning to him, saying Hi, I’m Dejun, do you want to join me?

There’s no snow today. The sky is clear and blue, like the ocean, or a cornflower, or forget-me-nots, as if the universe is trying to tell him that this is a day he won’t forget.

Or, maybe, that there’s something he should forget.

Dejun’s happy, he can tell, even though neither of them can stand the cold. I’ve always wanted to come here! he says, eyes glued to the landscape unfurling beneath them as the cable car climbs higher and higher. Ge, look at that! Isn’t that our building?

Kun smiles and ruffles his hair. No, dummy, you can’t see our building from here. 

For a long time, he wondered whether or not he should. It’s clear that Dejun wanted him for life, and Kun wasn’t opposed to that idea. But something kept holding him back, fear or insecurity or whatever and he kept telling himself it wasn’t the right time but the question was, when was the right time?

Maybe the right time is now. He looks out at the sky, then at Dejun. Well, not now, but… soon. Soon it will be. Soon he can move on, be happy, live a good life. Maybe adopt some children? A pet? Not a cat, though, Ten had two and Kun always—

He said he’d move on. He wants to move on, wants the happy life in a small apartment with a dog and some plants and a stable job and a loving husband and a couple of kids and wants to no longer be stuck in the past with someone who’s undoubtedly already moved on.

So after Dejun picks out their couple locks, after they’ve locked them both onto the wire fence and thrown away the keys, Kun kneels down and brings out the box in his coat pocket.

Xiao Dejun. The name is barely out of Kun’s mouth and the boy’s already crying. Spend the rest of your life with me.

He doesn’t add the ‘please’ that bubbles up in his throat, but Dejun nods, covering his mouth with his hands, and drops into Kun’s open arms. You’re so dumb, he cries, clutching onto Kun’s coat. You’re so dumb I hate you yes yes yes I’ll marry you. But can I keep my name?

Kun wipes away the tears slowly freezing on Dejun’s cheeks and slips the silver band onto his finger. Of course. You’re my Little Jun*, after all.

You’re so annoying. Dejun can’t seem to tear his eyes off of the ring. They’re still crouched on the cold stone ground. Have you told my parents already?

Did you think I’d propose without asking for their blessing? Dummy, of course I did. They knew you were going to say yes.

Kun knew too. He pulls Dejun to his feet. Come on, let’s go. I’m freezing. And aren’t you hungry?

Dejun rolls his eyes. You’re always hungry, ge, but yeah, let’s— 

Hey, Winwin, look, it’s Kun. Kun, it is you, isn’t it? And your friend?

Chills run down Kun’s spine. He would know that voice anywhere, and those eyes, that face, the specific way he walks, like a panther stalking prey. And the tall man next to him must be Winwin. New friend? Boyfriend?

Fiance, actually, Dejun chirps. Kun-ge, is this your friend? How come you’ve never introduced us?

Oh, he wouldn’t—

We fell apart. Kun smiles tersely. The words come out colder than he’d meant. Ten blinks. Then, the corner of his mouth tilts up. It’s subtle, gone in a flash, and only someone who knows him well enough would be able to pick it up. Someone like Kun.

Yes, that’s why. Ten’s still charming as all hell, extending a hand to Dejun with a dazzling smile. My name is Ten. We were college roommates, but life got in the way of our—he pauses for a split second—friendship.

Winwin turns to Kun. Congratulations on the engagement, he says earnestly. Ten and I were just talking about this, actually. Bumping into you two was such a coincidence. It must be a sign.

Kun laughs politely. Yes, indeed. You’re thinking of marriage as well?

His words sound mechanical, but Winwin doesn’t seem to notice. Yes, he responds, though Kun hears no more. Instead, he’s hyperaware of Ten, who’s still talking to Dejun. He’s very focused, eyes trained on the boy, and for some reason, Kun hurts.

Would he rather Ten’s eyes flicker to him? He’d hoped, for a long time and maybe even now, that Ten would still be in love with him. But when he decided to propose, Kun had thought that he’d gotten over him. 

Winwin’s still talking about engagement parties and ring expenses. Kun tries to focus on him, nodding and humming when appropriate, business smile plastered on his face. There’s no way Ten can’t tell, not with the degree he knows him, but it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s moved on, and so has Ten.

Kun trembles, though not from the cold.

_And that's the way I loved you_

**Author's Note:**

> *Little Jun = Xiao Jun = Xiaojun
> 
> this was quite possibly the worst thing i've written for a very long time (though to be fair it is the ONLY thing i've written for a very long time (that was not previously started)). i'm fuckin obsessed with xiaokun but kunten is my otp and this was... really the best thing i could think of, wasn't it? 
> 
> junnie is very much ooc but yall probably realized. i did not expand on ten's personality, nor very on his and kun's relationship, but yall also probably realized. kun is also.... sort of an asshole lol, but again, yall probably realized.
> 
> in short, this was a mess and i'm sorry. i may rewrite it at some point.


End file.
